


Spell #63

by Raja_Myna



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Gen, Humor, Magic, Parody, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 07:03:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20903600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raja_Myna/pseuds/Raja_Myna
Summary: Mammon meddles with magic best left alone and ends up spending a day in quiet embarrassment. That should've been the end of it. It wasn't.





	Spell #63

_Spell number 63 in the book of Forbidden Arts… let's see what effects you have._

Mammon floated in front of the large tome, carefully reading the instructions. Magic was volatile at the best of times, and that which seemed simple rarely was. The magic in this book was even more dangerous than normal, if only due to the fact that Mammon hadn't bothered to translate anything beyond the preparation.

<strike>(Once upon a time, Viper would've been far more careful. Now, Mammon didn't have anywhere near as much to lose.)</strike>

It was a strange sort of exciting.

Mammon was as prepared as could be though. Taking a deep breath, the Mist Arcobaleno began. The spell wasn't overly complicated. The magic gathered, cloyingly thick in the room. Then, with a nearly inaudible _pop_, it dissipated, spell complete.

There… was no apparent effect. For a moment Mammon wondered if the spell had been messed up somehow. But had that been the case the magic should still be laying thick in the room or, as more than one interesting time had shown, gone haywire. The accidental summoning of Cthulhu Junior XVI had merely been one of the most entertaining and, in the end, most profitable of them.

But then Mammon moved and – oh. _Oh_. Well… that was embarrassing.

_Let this be a lesson_, mused Mammon silently, _on the importance of translations_.

Really though, there were worse things in life than a physical gender switch. And if Mammon could figure out how to make the spell target other people, then that was a veritable treasure trove of blackmail just waiting for an enterprising soul with a good camera and better reflexes.

Mammon had a great camera and the best reflexes in the business.

But oh well. One magic mishap was enough for one day. Mammon understood enough of the instructions to know that this was a temporary condition.

_-_-_-_

As expected, the day passed quickly without any of the other members of the Varia realizing that anything had changed.

Mammon went to bed that night, confident that tomorrow, everything would be back to normal.

_-_-_-_

Everything wasn't back to normal.

_-_-_-_

The shrill shriek woke the Varia officers efficiently. Xanxus jerked awake, grabbed his guns and fired three shots in the direction of the noise. Squalo tumbled out of bed, roared his signature “VOOOIIII!” and added a few curses for good measure. Lussuria, who had already been awake for a while and was down in the kitchen getting himself some breakfast, wondered at the unfamiliar voice. Leviathan shrieked right back before grabbing his weapons and running out to search for the source of the sound, forgetting entirely to get dressed. Mammon blinked slowly, noted that everything was physically returned to the way it should be and valiantly tried to ignore the foreboding feelings.

The Vongola know not to ignore Hyper Intuition. What some people sometimes forget is that regular intuition can be pretty spot on, too.

_-_-_-_

Belphegor had woken up about a minute before the shriek and stretched lazily. Normally, he'd just roll over and go back to sleep, but this time he was distracted by something… bouncing… on his chest. He sat up slowly and looked down. He then poked in disbelief at the two meat sacks attached to him.

The prince tossed the covers off and all but ran to the full body mirror that hung by the door. Even dressed in pajama pants the changes were obvious. Belphegor drew a sharp breath and exhaled equally as fast. His breathing kept speeding up and some far-off part of his mind noted that he was hyperventilating, but most of his attention was fixed on the person in the mirror.

The _girl_ in the mirror.

Belphegor screamed, a wordless, shrill sound of denial, confusion and rage.

He continued to scream until Leviathan burst into his room wearing nothing but his birthday suit, closely followed by Lussuria, Squalo and Xanxus.

The latter three all at least somewhat dressed, thankfully.

Four pairs of wide eyes took in the sight of the blond. Squalo was the first to regain some sense, though the quiet, almost breathless “Shitty prince?” he uttered suggested that he wasn't all there yet.

“Shitty princess, more like,” scoffed Xanxus after a moment, jarred back into reality by Squalo's voice.

Belphegor twitched.

“Oh, Bel, darling, what happened?” exclaimed Lussuria, gesturing dramatically.

Belphegor twitched again.

Leviathan looked around the room and uttered the conclusion most of them had already arrived at. “Mammon.”

Because Mammon was the only one insane enough to mess with magic. Magic was, in turn, the only thing that could do this so efficiently and unnoticeably.

And then Belphegor was off, screaming in pure rage rather than the amalgamation of confusion and shock from earlier. Storm Flames and knives marked his path through the corridors and the roaring of Squalo, incensed with the property damage, followed in his destructive wake.

It would've been Xanxus, but he usually just dumped the paperwork on his second in command, and was as such free to laugh at Bel instead.

_-_-_-_

Mammon regretted not listening to those foreboding feelings when the bedroom door was violently ripped open.

_-_-_-_

Around the time lunch rolled around, Belphegor had calmed down a bit. That was to say, he was no longer bringing the mansion down around their ears trying to kill Mammon. It may have had something to do with the fact that Mammon buggered out hours before, heading of to someplace to figure out what had happened, or possibly the copious amount of Rain Flames Squalo had doused the prince in.

Regardless of why though, Belphegor was sitting down, dressed in his now ill fitting clothes and sipping at a glass of milk. The wanton destruction had ceased for the moment.

“I know what went wrong with the spell.” Like hell Mammon was going to admit this mess was due to an incomplete translation.

“Kaching.” The smile on Belphegor's face was almost obscene. Xanxus glowered at him before turning to Mammon.

“So what, trash?”

Mammon squirmed a little. Just little enough that the others would never be able to use it as blackmail. Mammon was the blackmailer, not the blackmailee.

“So there's a contagious component in the spell. From what I've been able to determine, the spell will move between people with strong Dying Will Flames. Being infected once is enough to make you immune. Being closer than closer than five meters to someone who is currently infected, for a lack of a better word, is enough to make the spell remember you for later targeting. It only effects one person at a time. Any questions?”

As one, the Varia officers recoiled away from Belphegor.

“Too late,” deadpanned Mammon. “You've all been marked since yesterday anyway.”

No one ever claimed they were slow on the uptake.

“So… yesterday… you were—”

“Any more information will cost you.” Which was practically a yes, given the earlier comment.

“And we missed it?” whined Lussuria.

_-_-_-_

The next few days saw little change from the Varia’s routine chaos, apart from possibly a few more blackmail pictures than usual being taken. They’d just reached the final day, with Squalo being the last of them to suffer Mammon’s spell, when Xanxus started cursing up a storm.

“Boss?”

“—little thrash thinking, _surprise inspection_, we’ll show them a fucking surprise—”

Xanxus’ eyes caught on Squalo and he quieted instantly, going from enraged to plotting in the space between heartbeats. “Shitty shark. We’re getting visitors. I don’t want a single one of the fuckers seeing you, but you get within five meters of every single fucking one of them, you hear me?”

The grin on Squalo’s face could only be called _sharklike_.

_-_-_-_

When Xanxus awoke the next morning, he stretched lazily and pretended he could hear the screaming.

_-_-_-_

“HIIIIEEEE!!!!”

“Tenth!”

“Haha, what’s going on?”


End file.
